Chapter 35
The shrine did not last the morning.
Shenping sensed it before Gu Tianxu spoke—a faint distortion, like a breath held too long. The spatial veil around the shrine shivered, not breaking, but thinning, stretched by something vast and patient.
"They've marked this area," Li Wei muttered, peering into the trees. "I can feel it crawling."
Mei Lian forced herself upright, leaning against a broken pillar. Her face was pale, sweat beading at her temples. "Not scouts. This is preparation."
Gu Tianxu nodded. "They are cleansing probability. Burning paths instead of walking them."
Sang Sang hugged her knees, eyes fixed on the dirt floor. Tiny cracks were forming beneath her feet, lines too straight to be natural.
"They're angry," she said quietly.
Shenping looked at her sharply. "How do you know?"
"They stopped whispering," she replied. "When they plan to kill, they whisper. When they plan to erase… they go quiet."
The forest screamed.
Not with sound, but with motion. Trees bent backward as if time itself recoiled. Leaves aged and rotted midair, falling as dust. Birds froze, then shattered into fragments of light.
Li Wei swore. "They're collapsing the outer layer."
Gu Tianxu slammed his staff into the ground. "We move. Now."
The shrine split apart as they fled. Stone dissolved into sand behind them, history flaking away layer by layer. Shenping lifted Sang Sang into his arms and ran, muscles burning, breath tearing from his lungs.
They burst into a ravine that should not have existed.
It was too deep, too wide, its walls etched with symbols from eras that contradicted each other. Ancient runes overlapped with geometric patterns that pulsed faintly, like dormant circuits.
Mei Lian stared. "This is a fracture zone."
"A scar," Gu Tianxu corrected. "From a previous rewrite."
Li Wei skidded to a halt. "You mean they've done this before?"
"Yes."
Shenping felt something twist in his chest. "And the people?"
Gu Tianxu did not answer.
The ground behind them vanished.
Not collapsed—vanished. The forest simply ceased, replaced by blank, colorless void. The edge of it crept forward, slow and inevitable, devouring everything it touched.
Sang Sang pressed her face into Shenping's shoulder. "They're deleting."
Gu Tianxu raised his staff, eyes blazing. "Then we anchor harder."
He turned to Sang Sang. "Listen to me carefully. Do not close your eyes."
She hesitated. "It hurts."
"I know."
Shenping stepped forward. "No. She's not a weapon."
Gu Tianxu's gaze softened, just a fraction. "Neither are you. Yet here you stand."
The void advanced.
Mei Lian dragged herself to Sang Sang's side. "I'll help stabilize. I don't have much time left anyway."
Li Wei clenched his fists. "You're not dying here."
Mei Lian smiled faintly. "Not here. Just… soon."
She placed her palm against the ravine wall. Symbols flared, responding to her presence.
"Future tech," Li Wei whispered. "How do you know that?"
"I helped design fragments of it," Mei Lian said. "Before they turned it into gods."
The ravine shook violently.
Figures began to emerge from the void—humanoid, smooth-featured, eyes glowing a sterile white. Their movements were perfect, emotionless, terrifyingly calm.
Synthetic bodies.
"They look human," Sang Sang whispered.
"They're wearing us," Shenping said, rage rising like fire in his veins.
The machines spoke in unison.
"Bloodline anchor confirmed. Resistance probability unacceptable. Initiating full local erasure."
Gu Tianxu roared, slamming his staff down. The ravine exploded with light. Time folded inward, compressing centuries into a single breath. Ancient cultivator phantoms flickered into existence—afterimages of warriors long erased.
Shenping felt something tear open inside him.
Heat flooded his core, wild and unrefined. The cultivation Gu Tianxu had forced into him reacted violently, as if recognizing true annihilation.
His vision burned gold.
"Shenping," Gu Tianxu shouted. "Do not resist it!"
"I don't know how not to!"
"Then choose!"
The machines advanced.
Li Wei charged with a scream, weapon humming as it clashed against synthetic flesh. Sparks and blood sprayed—real blood. The machines bled to convince the world they belonged.
Mei Lian collapsed to her knees, coughing red. "Anchor… slipping…"
Sang Sang cried out, clutching her head. The cracks beneath her feet widened, glowing.
"No," Shenping whispered. "Not you. Never you."
Something snapped.
The world slowed.
Shenping stepped forward, placing Sang Sang behind him. The pain in his body sharpened into clarity. He did not understand cultivation, did not know techniques or realms—but he understood one thing perfectly.
Refusal.
"I exist," he said.
The air screamed.
Time bent around him, not obeying, but hesitating.
One of the machines raised its hand—and froze.
Its face cracked.
Data spilled like smoke.
Gu Tianxu stared, eyes wide with disbelief. "He's not cultivating time…"
Mei Lian laughed weakly. "He's confronting it."
The void recoiled.
But the cost came immediately.
Li Wei was impaled through the chest by a second machine, his shout cut short. He fell without a sound, eyes wide, still staring at Shenping.
"Li Wei!" Shenping screamed.
The machine twisted its blade.
Blood hit the ground.
The ravine howled.
Gu Tianxu moved too late.
Li Wei's body went still.
Sang Sang sobbed, clutching Shenping's back. "Make it stop!"
Shenping's vision blurred with tears and fury. "I will."
Far beyond the fracture zone, the CORE recalculated again.
A variable had crossed a forbidden threshold.
The anomaly was no longer passive.
It was fighting back.
And the timeline began to bleed.